The Proof is in the Pie
by La Vita a Colori
Summary: Dean is going to show Castiel exactly what he means about the sanctity of pie. Sam is amused.


A/N: HELLO FRIENDS I AM HERE. FELL HEAD FIRST BACK INTO SPN AND DESTIELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL .

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"I don't like it."

Dean, for all he could try to hide it, looked nothing short of flabbergasted.

"Excuse me?" Came the incredulous reply.

Castiel tipped his head slightly, eyes trained on the expanse of plastic coated table top and did a little half shrug Sam thought might come from his millennium of observing humankind. "I said I do not like pie."

"Don't like the-" It was all Dean could do to not simply fastball his hash brown laden fork across the table into Castiel's face. "You cant _not _like pie, Cas, it's _pie_." As if the enunciation would clear up everything.

It didn't.

Not by a long shot.

Considering Dean, Castiel's eyes focused on his query clear and bright as they'd always been. "I am aware of what it is, but the taste of food is irrelevant to my celestial being. It is only my vessel's latent physical senses that I can, in a way, "taste" them." The angel was still learning when to use air quotes, it seemed. And it made sense, Sam thought. He knew angels had their own way of sensing the world as they were forms of pure energy and focus, not corporeal and needing of physical sensation to get by. It was then that he drifted off into his own contemplation, wondering if angels were dulled in their human senses since they were able to better assess situations with their divine senses. Instead, he shook the thought off and flipped the page of his newspaper, scanning for anything out of the ordinary that could incur a case for the three of them.

"You're insane. You gotta be insane! Tell him, Sammy," Dean countered, making wild gesticulations with his hands at the apparently insane angel, eyes betraying his disgust at someone who could not appreciate the wonders of pie.

Sam snorted, shaking his head with a slight widening of his eyes at his brother, telling him, '_Nope, I am staying out of that one_,' as he flipped the next page.

"I just do not see how an affinity for pastries can correlate to mental instability-"

"Pie isn't just a pastry, dude. It's pie. It's not supposed to serve a purpose other than the be enjoyed."

"Oh, here we go again," Sam muttered under his breath, and Dean pointed a finger right in his face, not skipping a beat, "You shut it." Turning back to Castiel, he chewed around the last bite of bacon and hash browns, eyebrows drawing together as he stared at the angel. Now that Dean thought about it, he supposed Castiel never really did things just for the enjoyment of it. He had always been the 'good little soldier' in Heaven and even with his taking to accompanying the Winchesters on their latest and greatest, he still strove to only do things for others. What he was told to do. It made Dean wonder whether Castiel really enjoyed shit at all. He made a gruff sound deep in his chest because like that was possible- the last time he'd taken Castiel for a little joy ride with a hooker aptly named Chastity, they'd gotten kicked out of the joint.

He dropped his fork then, a decided clatter against cheap porcelain as he licked the last of the meat from between his teeth. "That's it, you are being schooled right now." Turning in his seat, he waved over the waitress who had been serving them, quickly placing his order of one of every type of pie they had in the joint.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Castiel inquired, looking for all the world like he couldn't understand why Dean would order more pie when Castiel had just stated plainly that he did not like it, and then went on to wonder whether Dean was going to eat it all himself, opening his mouth to mention how bad that would be for his cholesterol.

He was cut off before he could even start. "We're gonna sit here and you're going to sample each and every one until you start enjoying it, capisce?"

And while Castiel glared holy daggers at the elder Winchester, Sam was struck with a funny nostalgic feeling that made him let out a surprised huff of laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. I just... I remembered you used to say something like that to me when we were young."

A moment of surprised realization came over Dean's face and a grin spread crookedly in a line. "Ah, yeah, when you wouldn't eat your meal 'cause you were too pissed we were moving again."

'_And now were constantly moving_,' is what gets left unsaid because it's an obvious by now.

A little caught in disbelief, Sam could only laugh again, wondering what other seemingly minuscule things Dean remembered from their disjointed childhood together.

"Yeah, well that's what you got to do for family, right Dean?"

And he was more than a little caught off guard when he spotted the way Dean's eyes flicked to Castiel with something like fondness in them before that sly grin spread further outward into a smile. An honest to goodness smile showing that he was actually happy where he was right then, turning that flash of bright white teeth back onto Sam.

"Family... right," he muttered, something stupid and soft underlying the sentiment.

And right then, Sam realized that this was what happiness must feel like for their family. Eating at some nondescript diner in the middle of nowhere important, USA, and ordering the establishment out of all of it's pie. But, at least they were together, this little makeshift Winchester family, safe, together and content that way.


End file.
